


Dedication

by dryswallow



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryswallow/pseuds/dryswallow
Summary: “It’s not like I get injured on purpose,” Sorey argues weakly. “And the rest of you get hurt too, it’s just less of an inconvenience when you can take care of it yourselves. It’d be easier if I could just do what you do and use artes to heal… Oh. Oh, hey!”He leans forward, eyes bright with the beginning of an idea. “Do you think I could learn?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, catforge! Sorry this took forever. This fits into canon in the last third of the game, but in no specific place.

Sorey is no stranger to bumps, scrapes and bruises. He had gotten his fair share of them playing in the ruins and fields of Elysia as a child, always too excited to watch where he was going. His injuries would smart and sting for days, but it was never anything he couldn’t manage.

Burns from fire artes, though – those are a bit different.

The fire of a hellion is nothing like searing your tongue on hot food or getting a little too close to a stove. These flames are hot and sharp, and they tear into his back like the claws of a wild animal. The smell of burnt fabric fills the air, and then the smell of scorched flesh.

He was stupid to get caught from behind like this. Sorey curses and steps to the side but the flames follow him, preventing him from swinging around in counterattack. There’s a shout from behind him, then a screech, and all at once the heat stops. But the damage is done. His legs shake and then give way beneath him.

“Ah. Damn, that stung.”

“Sorey, watch it!”

There’s a blur of red as Rose dashes in front of him, holding back the remaining Hellion.

“Cover us!” Mikleo is yelling, and then he’s at Sorey’s side, the pale glow of a healing arte already surrounding him.

“Ready?” he asks, one hand on Sorey’s shoulder to hold him steady. Sorey grits his teeth and nods.

At times like this, the healing hurts almost as much as the wound. Skin burnt to the point of blackness is difficult to mend; it’s easier to tear away what is beyond repair and build from beneath. Mikleo’s artes are cold and kind, but Sorey still cries out as bits of damaged flesh are pulled away and the rest of him is pushed through an accelerated regeneration. The pain reaches a crest and then begins to recede into nothing more than an itch.

It’s over.

“You’re okay,” he hears Mikleo say. “I’m here with you, you’re okay.”

The world around them is quieter now – the hellions must be gone. Sorey breathes deeply.

Mikleo’s voice is close to him. What is he saying?

“You’re an idiot.”

Sorey laughs. “Thank you, Mikleo.”

Sorey is able to haul himself back to his feet with Mikleo’s help, but he can feel his strength wavering. His injuries may have healed but he’s still recovering from the strain of them and the stress that battle always places on his body.

“How do you feel now?” Mikleo asks, arm tight around his shoulders.

“Not great,” Sorey says. “I’ll be fine, I promise, but can we maybe take a break for a bit? Please?”

* * *

Volgran Forest is full of good places to hide. Rose leads them to a small clearing circled by rocks and large trees where they can rest without fear of being seen by any hellions wandering by.

Lailah, having more experience with burns than Mikleo, crouches on the ground next to Sorey and casts another arte over his back to make sure the healing was complete. It still hurts when her energy pushes against and then through him, but the pain has dulled, feeling more like an old scar than a fresh wound. It only bothers him a little when he stretches his arms through the sleeves of a new shirt, the other having been burnt and torn beyond repair.

“It looks almost completely healed,” Lailah says, pulling back her hands. “No scarring even – you did a good job, Mikleo.”

“Thanks,” Mikleo answers from where he sits on the ground next to Sorey, knees against his chest. He looks worried, even more than he usually is after a difficult battle.

Sorey is about to reach out to him when Rose appears with two cups of steaming liquid, a cheerful grin on her face.

“Here you go, two hot cups of chamomile!”

“I’m fine,” Mikleo tries to protest as Rose leans down to hand him a drink.

“There’s no point in making only one cup so I made a whole pot. Just take it!”

Mikleo reluctantly accepts the cups from her and hands one to Sorey. The other he cradles close to his chest, letting the steam rise up against his cheeks.

“Thank you, Rose,” Sorey says. “I’ll be okay soon.”

“Hey, no rush! You’re hurt, you need to take your time,” she says. “We’ll just hang out and enjoy the break ourselves until you’re ready to go again. Right, Lailah?”

“Right!” Lailah springs to her feet. She smiles in her strange way as she brushes dirt from the white ruffles of her dress, then follows Rose to where Edna and Zaveid are standing guard.

The forest is quiet around them, as if inviting them to rest there beneath the protection of its canopy. The air smells sweet, a mix of the living things around them and the herbs that Rose had brewed for their tea. It always smells sweeter when the Blessing has been returned, Sorey is learning, and the sun seems brighter too, pushing its way through the leaves above them to bring warmth to the ground below.

“I’m glad you had an extra shirt in your bag,” Mikleo says.

“Yeah,” Sorey grins. “It’d be kind of cold without it.”

“Well, that and being part of a group with two shirtless guys just seems excessive. Though maybe Zaveid would actually put on a shirt, if you stole his thing.”

“His ‘thing’?”

“You know, his whole tough guy not-wearing-a-shirt whatever it is. A schtick?”

“It’s not a schtick!”

Sorey and Mikleo look up sharply. Across the clearing, Zaveid waves at them.

“I can hear you guys, you know!”

Mikleo turns back towards Sorey, ignoring Zaveid. “He needs to stop using the wind to spy on people.”

“I’m not using the wind, you guys are just being loud!”

“Let’s not give him any attention,” Mikleo says, but lowers his voice nonetheless. He smiles, pleased with his own joking, but his expression fades quickly back into a look of worry and frustration. It’s an echo of the panic that he wore when rushing to Sorey’s side during battle.

Sorey has no interest in telling Mikleo what and what not to do or feel (not anymore, at least), but it bothers him anyway. And he can tell, acknowledging the softness of his own heart, it’s going to keep bothering him until he does something about it.

“Sorry,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

Mikleo’s mouth curves into a frown. “For what?”

Sorey scratches at his cheek. “This has been, uh, happening a lot lately. The injuries.”

“It’s not something you need to apologize for, but I do think you should be more careful.”

“Yeah, I-”

“More careful and less stupid,” Mikleo continues. “Stop rushing in when you aren’t prepared. And if you can’t focus, just tell us and we can avoid the hellions for a while. It’s not worth you getting hurt like this.”

“It’s not like I get injured on purpose,” Sorey argues weakly. “And the rest of you get hurt too, it’s just less of an inconvenience when you can take care of it yourselves. It’d be easier if I could just do what you do and use artes to heal… Oh. Oh, hey!”

He leans forward, eyes bright with the beginning of an idea. “Do you think I could learn?”

“Learn to heal?”

“Yeah! Wouldn’t that be great?”

“It’s a good idea, but… Honestly, I’m not sure if you can,” Mikleo says.

“Why not? I can use other artes. And I can use your artes to heal when we’re armatized too! Why would this be different?”

It’s a challenge. Mikleo sets his tea down on the ground beside them and folds his arms, settling into a cross-legged position. Sorey’s smile grows wider as he watches Mikleo think; there’s a comically serious expression on his face that Sorey would call cute, were he asked for his opinion.

“I don’t remember anything in the Celestial Record about a Shepherd, or any human, who was able to use artes with a significant healing effect,” Mikleo starts. “That doesn’t mean it’s not possible, of course – think of how many things we’ve seen already that weren’t written down anywhere. But it just seems different. Like the way a water seraph can’t use fire artes. It’s not in our nature.”

“Nature, really?”

Mikleo shrugs. “I’m not sure what else to call it. If you really want to find out, we should ask Lailah or Edna. They’ll know for sure.”

Sorey considers this for a moment. “Nah, not Edna, I’m really not in a mood to have her make fun of us.”

“Us? Why would she make fun of _me_ for your question? Wait, no, she totally would. Ugh, you’re right, definitely not Edna… Lailah then?”

“Why don’t we just try it and see what happens? Unless you really think I’m hopeless…”

“I never said you were hopeless, it just seems unlikely. But…” As he trails off, Mikleo’s face breaks into a grin.

And now Sorey knows he’s triggered Mikleo’s curiosity.

“But who knows?” Mikleo says. “Maybe we’ll unlock some healing potential of Shepherds that no one has managed to find before. After all, it’s unlikely other Shepherds would have tried if they just relied on seraphim for things like that.”

He pauses for a second to think. “Were you hurt anywhere else, somewhere we haven’t healed yet?”

“Yeah.” Sorey nods. “One of them got my arm a little bit.”

Sorey lifts his forearm and pulls back his sleeve to show Mikleo the scrape. The skin is only slightly reddened and not torn enough to bleed or scab.

“That will work. Here, give me your other hand.”

Mikleo places Sorey’s hand over the scrape on his arm, then rests his own hand on top of Sorey’s. He closes his eyes and Sorey quickly does the same.

“I’m not sure if it’s the same for everyone, but I was taught to heal by focusing on energy. Our bodies can heal themselves, given enough time – usually, we’re just giving a body the energy and direction it needs to speed up the process. I’m not sure what it’s like for others, but when you heal with an affiliation to water, you’re giving one of the essential parts of life back to someone.

“When we’re armatized,” Mikleo continues, “and we use a healing arte then, what does it feel like to you?”

Sorey tilts his head, considering it. “Kind of like what you said, I guess. I never thought about it too much before. It just happens.”

“All right, we’ll start there. Just focus on drawing that energy up from yourself, and then focusing it on where you’re hurt. Just a little bit – put too much into it and you might hurt yourself even worse.”

Against the darkness of his eyelids, Sorey visualizes the energy that remains in his body coming together, a bright light that shines outward from his chest. It’s difficult to think of how to manipulate the energy into healing when he’s so used to pushing it outward, channeling it into attacks or cleansing malevolence. He urges it down his arm, thinking of water, thinking of life and sunlight and the smell of the forest around them, but the energy disperses before it finds its target.

Sorey opens his eyes, then pulls his arm away to check the scrape. He frowns to see that it’s exactly as he expected: he hasn’t been able to heal himself at all.

“Maybe this would be easier if I was healing you instead.”

“That could be,” Mikleo says, opening his eyes as well. “But I’m not hurt right now, so we’ll have to try another time. Or if you find some plants that are wilting, we can always practice on those. We don’t have to give up on this just yet.”

“Sounds good. But could you…”

Sorey gestures to the scrape on his arm.

“Oh, right.” Mikleo brings his hand back to Sorey’s arm. There’s a quick spark of light and the scrape is gone.

It’s something he’s seen many times before, but Sorey still finds himself slightly in awe.

“You make it look so easy.”

Mikleo shrugs. “It is, for a seraph. It’s just one of the many ways that humans and seraphim are different. Remember, most humans can’t even see us, let alone access artes. We’re different.”

Sorey sighs, then reaches forward to take Mikleo’s hands back into his own. Mikleo lets him, a curious smile on his face as Sorey drags his fingers over the softness of Mikleo’s palm.

Their hands don’t look much different. Mikleo’s are paler and more slender in shape, but in essence, aren’t they the same thing? Four fingers and a thumb; nails, knuckles and palms.

“It’s just weird to think about this,” Sorey says. “I’ve never thought of you as being all that different from me. I always knew you were a seraph and I was human, and we’re different people. I would never change that; I like you the way you are. But back home, it never felt… the way it does out here. In the towns, I mean, where there’s basically no way for the seraphim and humans to communicate and they live completely separately, even though they share the same world.”

“Well, that’s where you come in,” Mikleo says. “As the Shepherd.”

“Haha, that’s true.”

He laughs, but there’s a weight to it that doesn’t go unnoticed. Mikleo squeezes Sorey’s hands in reassurance.

“You can’t do everything,” Mikleo says. “And you can’t fix everything either. You’ll go mad if you try, and I absolutely won’t let you do that to yourself. So rely on us when you need to.”

The way Mikleo is looking at him now is anything but shy. Heat rises into Sorey’s chest and face. He rarely finds himself tongue-tied, but Mikleo’s intensity has knocked him off balance.

“O-okay,” Sorey manages.

“I don’t just mean for healing,” Mikleo clarifies. “Whatever you need – I don’t mind. I’m here for you.”

“I’ll take you up on that, I promise.”

“You better.” Mikleo grins. “Remember, you’re the guy who tried to sneak away from home in the middle of the night without me.”

“Well, that was-”

“And then tried to keep me from becoming a Sub Lord.”

“Okay, okay, you got me.” Sorey bows his head in defeat. “I’ve learned my lesson!”

“I hope so,” Mikleo says. He takes advantage of Sorey’s lowered head and reaches forward to ruffle Sorey’s hair, making it even more of a mess than it was before.

“Hey!” Sorey ducks away from Mikleo, laughing. Mikleo lunges forward for him again but Sorey dodges; he’s tempted to go for revenge by reaching for Mikleo’s side, but if Sorey tried to tickle him in this position, they’d both fall over onto the ground and be done for.

Instead, Sorey catches Mikleo’s hand again and pulls it back towards himself. Both of them pause, still laughing but unsure of what happens next. Sorey can’t think of what to say so he smiles widely and hopes that Mikleo understands how happy he is, and how grateful, and how full of love.

It’s a strange feeling that can make him feel so strong and so vulnerable all at once. It gives him life at the same time it steals breath from his lungs. But Mikleo is smiling back at him with warm eyes, and Sorey knows it’s something right. What’s between them has been building for years and years and years, and it will take more than a few disagreements or injuries to tear it down.

If they were alone somewhere, Sorey would kiss him. But not now. (Not yet.)

“What are you two doing?”

Startled, Sorey looks up to see Edna standing over him with a bored look on her face.

“If you have time to waste just holding hands, then we should probably get moving again.” She scuffs her boots against the ground. “As long as you and Meebo are feeling up to it, of course.”

“We’re giving Sorey time to rest, not _wasting_ it,” Mikleo insists.

Sorey almost expects Mikleo to pull his hands away, but they stay clasped in his own, even as Edna rolls her eyes.

“K. Well, unless you want to camp out here on the ground tonight we should get going back to town and find an inn. It's getting late.”

“She has a point,” Sorey says. “And I do feel better.”

“Good,” Edna says. “We’ll pack up then.”

She lifts her umbrella back over her shoulder and begins her stroll to the edge of the clearing. Mikleo picks up the cup of tea still sitting beside him, now gone cold. He wrinkles his nose, but finishes it off anyway – he’s always hated to see things go to waste.

Sorey stretches his arms out before he stands, testing for any sudden pain in his shoulders are back. Luckily, there’s none.

“You sure you're okay?” Mikleo asks. He’s on his feet already, brushing dirt and grass off of his clothes.

“Yeah,” Sorey tells him. “Just like new.”

“All right then,” Mikleo says, smiling. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> While reviewing canon for this, I discovered Alisha actually does have an art with healing effects, but it's late in the game anyway so let's just ignore that!


End file.
